


Black Cat Bakery

by kuro



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Cats, Fluff, Humor, Multi, a surprising lot of them, and dense people abound
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-20 10:16:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2425052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro/pseuds/kuro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Sam own a bakery together, with Natasha and Bucky as their not so trusty but inexplicably popular employees. </p><p>Tony might or might not be a stray that sometimes (often) comes in to feast on their baked goods and coffee.</p><p>[Now with art for Chapter 1!! :D]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Black Cat Bakery

**Author's Note:**

> I got beautiful, wonderful, perfect [art](http://kurowrites.tumblr.com/post/101005222035/chibiesque-black-cat-bakery-by-kurowrites-i) from [chibiesque](http://chibiesque.tumblr.com/)! Thank you sooo much, I can't even put into words how much I love this!

Steve gets up as early as he does every day. It’s not a hardship for him; he’s long since gotten used to the early hours. And if he’s completely honest, he enjoys the quietness of the sleeping city, the strange, almost otherworldly atmosphere that reigns the streets before they become lively once more. The short walk from his apartment to the bakery is something that only belongs to him, and he enjoys it every day, mentally preparing himself for the busy and noisy day ahead of him.

The bakery is still dark when Steve arrives, but Sam is already waiting for him in the front, giving him a quick hug when Steve walks up to him. Just like Steve, he’s not particularly chatty in the morning, and it’s not like they _need_ to talk to each other. They’ve been a team for a long time now, they understand each other without words.

“What’s today’s special?” Sam finally breaks the silence when they’re changing into their work clothes.

“I was thinking salted caramel cheesecake,” Steve suggests. Several people have been asking for it lately. It’s been a hit every time so far, and he hasn’t had it on offer for a while.

“Natasha’s going to sneak out approximately half of it, so you better make enough,” Sam says with a grin.

“Or she could just finally become a responsible store employee and stop eating the food we need to sell,” Steve comments, sighing deeply. Sam openly laughs at that, because hell will freeze over before Natasha stops sneaking food.

Once they have prepared today’s ingredients, they fall into the familiar rhythm of their work. Steve does the cakes and confection, Sam is responsible for the bread.

They actually met in Europe, when they were both travelling around and trying to perfect their skills in their respective fields. It felt like destiny for both of them; they shared the same vision. Once they had both returned to New York, they started working together to make it become reality. That was the start of the Black Cat Bakery.

As soon as Sam has finished the first batch of bread, they have a short break. It’s become a tradition now, and it’s mostly Steve’s fault, because he can never resist the delicious smell of Sam’s bread. (Well, it’s not like Sam isn’t stealing Steve’s stuff, too, so it’s very much mutual.) They feast on the day’s first bread and have a cup of coffee, their usual breakfast, before they continue with the preparations for the day.

Steve has to fill a few orders, three of them should get picked up right when the shop opens, so he’s busy and completely absorbed in his work. That’s why he nearly jumps when he suddenly realises someone is standing next to him, and that that someone is definitely _not_ Sam.

“Jesus!” he exclaims loudly. “You almost gave me a heart attack!”

Tony stares back at him with impossibly innocent eyes and gleefully slurps the coffee he helps himself to every morning even though he’s technically not allowed to.

“You haven’t made the donuts yet,” he accuses Steve with wide, hurt eyes.

“You know very well that they come last because they get gross when they lie around for too long,” Steve reminds him.

“Can’t you make a few for me before you make the rest?” Tony whines, dramatically slumping against the table Steve is working at. “I’m starving.”

Steve reaches over to Sam’s side, snatches one of the croissants that just came out of the oven and stuffs it into Tony’s mouth.

“How about you eat something healthy for breakfast for a change?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, before turning towards the dough he’s currently preparing once more.

“It’s not breakfast, I’ve been inventing all night,” Tony complains, but he devours the croissant anyway. It’s no wonder; no one can resist Sam’s bread. There was even that one guy who almost died because he had a gluten intolerance, but he insisted that it had been totally worth it once he had recovered. Steve doesn’t really understand, but it’s probably not his place to judge. He does wonder a bit what he would do if he suddenly developed an intolerance.

He ignores Tony making faces at him as best as he can and keeps on working. Tony is kind of the stray cat that somehow pops in at random times (especially in the morning when the shop is still closed) and demands attention and food.

It’s really how that whole thing started. Tony was wandering around on the empty streets one early morning when he saw the lights shining through the windows of the bakery. And since restraint is an alien concept for him, he decided to pop in and ask for some food.

Steve was appalled at the brazenness of his request, but Sam laughed and gave him some coffee and a donut that was out of shape and couldn’t have been sold anyway. And well, everyone knows that if you feed a stray once, it will come back.

Soon, Tony came by basically every day, to Steve’s great frustration and everyone else’s great amusement. Even more so, even though it was usually Sam who gave him food, Tony somehow became attached to Steve and bothered _him_ all the time, whether the timing was good or not.

* * *

 

Shortly before opening time, Natasha and Bucky file in to get the shop ready for the first customers of the day. Bucky is responsible for the in-house guests, coffee and cleaning, Natasha is responsible for sales. While Natasha has the habit of sneaking out food, Steve has to grumpily admit that the two of them are extremely popular with the customers and have contributed a lot to the success of the whole enterprise.

Sam abandons his work for a moment when the two arrive to greet them both with an intense, pasionate kiss before he turns around and grins at Steve cheekily. He loves shoving it into Steve’s face that he didn’t just manage to hook _one_ of his best friends, but _two_ of them.

It’s not that Steve is jealous, not at all. He’s happy for the three of them, because really, he’s never seen them quite as content before. But it’s also frustrating, because since Peggy… there kind of hasn’t been anyone.

It’s not just that Peggy set the bar pretty high (he still wonders sometimes how someone like her could ever be interested in someone like _him_ ), it’s also Steve himself. He kind of wishes he was different, that it was easier for him to feel attracted to someone. He wishes he could share that deep connection that Sam, Nat and Bucky seem to have with each other.

He felt he had found it with Peggy. It had been the only time he had really felt it.

He notices that Tony is also staring at the three of them with an unreadable expression. When he realises that Steve is looking at him, though, he quickly turns away from them and smiles one of his typical cheeky smiles.

“They’re really something, aren’t they,” Tony murmurs, more to himself than to Steve, before he picks up two of the donuts that Steve has just finished and leaves.

* * *

 

“Natasha, why is there too much money in the register _again_?” Steve asks later that day, exasperated. Natasha only shrugs unenthusiastically, not really interested.

“There are at least two hundred dollars too much in the register for the… I don’t even know how many times that makes this month alone!” Steve exclaims. “But somehow none of you is worried?”

“Better than too little?” Bucky suggests, and Natasha and Sam nod in agreement.

Bucky is obviously right – they’re not yet in a financially secure place where they have paid off all their debts, and have enough saved up to weather a storm. So any possible loss of money would be disastrous. But money that technically shouldn’t be there keeps appearing, and no one seems to know how it does. No one seems _interested_ in knowing. That kind of worries Steve a tiny bit.

“Cats sometimes bring in their hunting gifts,” Natasha says mysteriously and shakes her head when Steve only stares at her, uncomprehending.

* * *

 

Tony magically appears again once the shop has closed, happily feasting on coffee and some of the day’s leftovers at one of the tables that Bucky is supposed to be cleaning. He only grins at Steve audaciously when he is caught in the act, continuing to stuff his face with the goods without even the slightest bit of hesitation.

“Don’t you have a home?” Steve grouses, still a little upset by the strange incident earlier. He leans on the table and folds his arms in front of his chest, trying to loom over Tony menacingly.

“I like it here,” Tony answers casually, completely unimpressed with Steve’s display. He leans over into Steve’s side and snuffles a bit at his shirt. “It always smells good here and it’s clean. The interior is cute, too.”

Steve blushes a bit, not only because Tony is very physically affectionate and Steve isn’t quite sure if that was an innuendo right now, but also because he is responsible for the whole design of the bakery.

It’s mostly kept in an Art Nouveau style, with lots of flower decorations and a nice stained glass window that prominently features a black cat at the entrance. He’s had to weather a lot of dumb comments for his design choices already. He’s not so used to compliments, although especially the female clientèle seems to be taken with it.

“You _do_ have a home, do you?” Steve hesitantly asks, reaching out and gently pushing his fingers through Tony’s wild hair. “You aren’t really an alley cat?”

The question makes Tony laugh and bury his face in Steve’s front.

“I do have a home,” he eventually assures Steve. “I just really like it here. The cat was beckoning me, I couldn’t resist.”

Steve doesn’t know how react to that, really, so he just kind of keeps petting Tony’s hair, waiting for an excuse to stop. It doesn’t come. Now that Steve thinks about it, the bakery is awfully quiet. At least Bucky and Natasha should still be around, helping with the clean up.

“Cat,” he says suddenly, making Tony’s head snap up in surprise. Steve can’t believe that he was so slow on the uptake. “You were the cat that kept bringing in the hunting gifts.”

Tony laughs so hard at that he falls off the chair.


	2. Alley Cats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got beautiful, wonderful, perfect [art](http://kurowrites.tumblr.com/post/101005222035/chibiesque-black-cat-bakery-by-kurowrites-i) from [chibiesque](http://chibiesque.tumblr.com/)! Thank you sooo much, I can't even put into words how much I love this!

Sam, as always, comes home first. Six days a week, his day starts long before daybreak, so when he leaves for work, both Natasha and Bucky are still fast asleep. And when he finishes work, the two are still in the middle of it.

He doesn't really mind getting up early; he loves his job and couldn't imagine doing anything else. And with Steve, he has found an excellent partner. If business continues to grow as it has recently, they're going to have to hire new people soon. It's pretty much everything Sam has ever aspired to, with the added bonus of an extremely successful relationship with two people at the same time (that one was a bit of a surprise, really, but he is nothing if not adaptable).

But despite all the good things that are happening in his life right now, from time to time, when he comes home and no one is there, or when he has to leave the warm, cosy bed in the morning, he can't help but feel a little cold and lonely. It's always him who has to leave the other two behind, and he can't help but feeling bothered by it a little in his weaker moments.

After a short moment of consideration, Sam decides that he's not really up for anything but taking a nap right now. The negative thoughts are probably mostly a sign of lack of sleep, and taking a nap is should help solving the greatest part of the issue already. He can always do the housework later, when the others are home, and add a little quality time with them while he's at it.

Sam doesn't bother to go to bed (it's probably more lonely there without the other two, anyway) and moves to the sofa. As soon as his head touches the cushions, he is out like a light. He only wakes up when Natasha suddenly straddles him.

“Oof,” he complains when she settles on his stomach. “Welcome home, yes, why don't you get comfortable right on my empty stomach.”

Instead of replying, Natasha leans down and greets Sam with a leisurely kiss.

“Bucky has decided he'll cook today,” she informs him when she draws back eventually. “And we saw something very interesting in the bakery just now.”

“Steve?” Sam hazards a guess, wriggling around until Natasha eventually moves so they are spooned together on the couch.

“He was patting Tony's head,” Natasha tells him. “I think he's making progress.”

“Oh god, finally,” Sam groans. “He's just _so_ slow on the uptake.”

Natasha hums in agreement, punching a cushion until it has the desired shape and pushing it under her head.

“It's not even the fact that he doesn't realise that Tony has been making eyes at him from the very beginning,” Sam continues. “Steve doesn't even realise that he's totally emotionally attached! Remember when Tony was sick and he didn't come to the bakery for two weeks? He was desolate, but woe to those who dared to bring it up.”

“He's never been good with these kinds of things,” Natasha says and sighs. “He's horrible that way. If you look at his expressions and body language, his feelings are completely obvious. He's so transparent it's embarrassing. But somehow, his consciousness doesn't register just _what_ he's expressing.”

“He's a giant fucking idiot!” Bucky shouts from the kitchen, punctuating his annoyance with a clang of what sounds like a large, heavy pan meeting a surface.

“That he is,” Natasha agrees, imperiously signing for Sam to cuddle with her.

Sam smiles, obliging the command gladly. It's just like Natasha is. She commands, expertly concealing the fact that she is giving just as much at the same time as she is receiving. Sam doesn't mind; he might not know all about Natasha (no one knows all about Natasha), but he understands her intent. And he can respect it.

Sam hugs her closer and buries his face in her hair, lightly stroking her stomach. His worries from before are gone, it seems like it really was just the lack of sleep. Still, he'll probably tell them about it during dinner. The first thing he had to learn when they started this particular arrangement is that you never keep quiet about these things. And he'll probably get additional cuddles out of it, which is always a plus.

Natasha and Sam keep lying on the sofa for a while, quietly listening to Bucky putter around in the kitchen, humming a song while he prepares dinner.

It's pretty damn near perfect.

* * *

 

When Steve unlocks the door of his tiny apartment, he is, as usual, greeted by silence. The apartment is more a hole in the wall than anything else really, but Steve lives alone and doesn't need much more than that. A bedroom with a small workspace, a bathroom, a kitchen with a table. That's enough for him. He spends most of his time out, anyway.

Steve originally planned to come home, eat something and then maybe do some book keeping, now that he knows that Tony has been stealthily putting money into the register. Look at the numbers, see just how much Tony has been contributing, figure out a way how Steve can pay him back. It's been going on for quite some time already, and he's pretty sure that the final number is going to be quite substantial.

But somehow, Steve is feeling restless. He can't stop wondering just why Tony has been doing that. He can't stop wondering why he hasn't done something about it earlier. Why the thought never even crossed his mind. Why he always indulges Tony. 

He eats a quick dinner and then changes into sweatpants and running shoes, leaving the apartment to go for a run. He might not be able to solve problems that way, but outrunning them at least for a little while is always worth a try.

As usual, rather than following a set course, Steve runs wherever his feet lead him to. He feels it's more interesting that way. It's part of why he runs – he has discovered many strange and fascinating places in the city that way.

The sun is already setting when Steve starts to run, but he isn't particularly worried about that. He can run at any time, and he's used to the dark anyway. Some days, the only way he is able to enjoy a little bit of sunshine is through the shop windows of the bakery.

Just as he jogs past a dark, dirty alley, Steve hears a very odd noise coming out of it. For a moment, he's confused, trying to place the noise and failing. He continues to run a few steps further, but then he sighs, stops, and turns around. He's never been good at ignoring anything that smelled of danger.

Carefully and ready for anything, he enters the alley – and immediately stumbles over some half-decomposed cardboard boxes in front of his feet. A dark figure suddenly shoots up seemingly out of nowhere, and Steve unexpectedly finds himself face-to-face with Tony.

Not-really-a-stray Tony. Who digs around in dark alleys, apparently.

“Steve!” Tony exclaims with wide eyes, cradling an alley cat in his arms that is making her dissatisfaction audible. Very loudly.

“You have a scratch on your face,” Steve informs Tony dumbly, not really sure how to react to the situation.

“Oh?” Tony mumbles absent-mindedly, trying to wipe the traces of blood away with his shoulder since his arms are full of cat. “I'll get it looked after later.”

“What about the cat?” Steve asks, pointing at the cat valiantly (but unsuccessfully) struggling to escape from Tony's hold.

“Stray,” Tony answers curtly. “She needs a vet.”

“It's already evening,” Steve points out. “I doubt there's going to be anyone who's still working.”

“Don't worry,” Tony assures him, trying to avoid the cat's claws and failing badly. “I know someone.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, because that sure doesn't sound like he's picking cats out of the gutter for the first time.

“Er, Steve?” Tony suddenly asks, turning his full-blast puppy eyes on him. “Could you maybe take my phone out of my pocket and call my ride? I'm kind of busy here.”

Steve hesitates for a moment, because Tony shamelessly shoves his butt into Steve's face to give him easier access to his back pocket. But then, that's how Tony is.

Tony gives him a cheeky grin when Steve reaches out to pluck his mobile phone out of his pocket. He tries to keep the touching to a minimum, because  _'feeling someone up in a dark alley_ ' has a very bad touch to it _,_ but Tony is not very helpful with that part. Steve very much wants to roll his eyes, dramatically, because seriously,  _Tony_ .

“Just press 2 for a few seconds,” Tony instructs him once Steve has recovered the phone. Steve does, and the phone automatically starts calling someone called 'Happy'. Once it's ringing, Steve holds the phone to Tony's ear.

“Hey, Happy,” Tony greets the person at the other end of the line. “Can you pick me up? Just follow the signal, yes. Okay, great.”

He motions to Steve that he's finished and Steve takes the phone away.

For a moment, the two of them just stare at each other, unsure of what to do. Steve has still Tony's phone clasped in his hand, and the cat is very far from calming down. Tony is starting to look remarkably similar to a well-used scratching post.

Eventually, Steve clears his throat awkwardly and looks away, scanning the refuse littered all over the ally. It's fascinating just what people throw away in back alleys, really.

“Do you... do you want me to wait with you until your ride is here?” he asks, because he doesn't now what else to say, and he can't just leave Tony alone here and continue with his run with a good conscience.

“Yea- yeah, that'd be nice,” Tony answers, face lighting up with a smile. “That's be great.”

He keeps smiling at Steve, looking at him almost expectantly, and Steve squirms a bit under Tony's gaze. This is the first time that they have ever interacted outside the shop and Steve's working hours, now that Steve thinks about it. There is no cake to be decorated and no oven that calls for his attention, and Steve really doesn't know what he should do with _Tony's_ attention, now that he has no diversion at the ready.

“So... you jog?” Tony finally speaks up, giving Steve's sweaty chest an appreciative glance. “No wonder you're so fit.”

“I... yeah, it's a good way to get a change of pace and find inspiration,” Steve mumbles, now _really_ unsure what to do with Tony's attention. There's a strange kind of tingling in his hands and arms.

Tony steps closer, opening his mouth as if to say something. This, of course, is the moment when the cat suddenly manages to wrangle herself out of Tony's grip. She jumps right at Steve, hissing and spitting as if she's possessed by the devil.

There might be screaming involved, both on Steve's and Tony's part, but things get a little blurred at this point.

* * *

 

“Steve, I'm so sorry,” Tony says for the probably hundredth time, sticking a band-aid to Steve's cheek. Luckily, the veterinary practice Happy hurriedly drove them to (and that really is open for business during the night, just as Tony said) also had some spare material for human patients.

Steve rolls his eyes, because yeah, he's aware that Tony is very, very sorry about the whole thing. And it's not like Tony looks any better than him, quite the contrary, really.

The only one that is really not sorry is the cat, who by now has gotten looked at by the vet, vaccinated, chipped and placed in a cat carrier. If Steve is reading her angry glare right, she's extremely unhappy about it. That, or she's just a really ugly cat who always looks like that.

Steve doesn't really care if she's happy or not, though. As long as she stays in there, his face (and Tony's) is safe from further assault.

“Let me make it up to you?” Tony begs, turning the puppy eyes on Steve once more.

“You've done more than enough for me already, thank you,” Steve answers, trying to ignore the way Tony's hands linger on his face. “I think you've already left enough money in the register to make up for a cat attack or two.”

Tony quietly laughs at that, finally letting his hands drop. He fidgets with the first aid kit for a moment, looking at the various bottles and boxes inside.

“Maybe I can introduce you to my other cats?” Tony suggests, twirling a bottle of aspirin in his fingers. “Just to show you that they're usually friendlier than that. No attacks this time, I promise.”

Steve wants to say no, really. He doesn't care about the cats. He doesn't need to know how nice they usually are.

But he's also kind of interested, because 'my other cats' implies that Tony has a place to stay. Not-really-a-stray Tony does have a home of some kind. And now that he thinks about it, Steve kind of wants to see just _where_ Tony is living, why he would rather hang out at Steve's Bakery most of the time than going home.

“Why not?” he finally asks, shrugging a little and giving Tony a crooked smile.

Tony beams back at him with a smile as bright and warm as the morning sun.

Steve shakes his head, idly wondering if the cat attack has somehow scrambled his brain. That, or he has discovered a very sudden love for poetry.


	3. Interlude: Tony's Cats

When Tony finally came home that night, he went straight to the ‘Cat Lounge’. The cats weren’t allowed in the main part of the apartment. The apartment was supposed to be ‘kept clean for representative reasons’ (wasn’t that just a laugh), and also too dangerous for the cats with its open floor plan and easy access to the balcony.

So Tony had built some extra rooms where everything had been arranged to suit the needs of the cats. He had personally manufactured everything, made cat trees and hideaways and climbing ladders and whatnot, making sure the cats would never get bored.

It was not only the cats’ home, though. It was also the part of the tower where Tony spent the majority of his time, apart from the workshop. Quite often, he even slept there, because nothing said ‘a comfortable night’s sleep’ quite like several cats trying to suffocate you in your slumber.

“Hello, my darlings,” Tony chanted as he entered the lounge. “I have a new friend for you!”

He put the cat carrier with the newly rescued cat in the middle of the floor and waited. As usual, Jan, the small friendly tabby, came to inspect the newcomer first. She had always been the friendliest and most easygoing of his cats, getting along easily with both cats and humans alike.

Jan, unimpressed by the hissing of the newcomer cat, sat close to the door of the carrier and started purring. After a few moments, she was joined by Thor, a big, hairy Norwegian Forest Cat that laid down on the floor next to her and stared at the carrier with focused intensity.

When the cat in the carrier made no attempt at calming down and introducing herself, he seemed to get impatient, though. Thor relocated over to Tony’s legs, rubbing his head on Tony’s trousers and demanding cuddles instead. Tony easily gave in to the demands, lifting Thor up and taking him over to the sofa where the Hulk was napping.

The Hulk was a giant long-haired cat of unidentifiable descent that ate and slept a lot and was perfectly content and agreeable when these two conditions were fulfilled. He had been extremely angry and wild when Tony had first brought him home, but it had soon become clear that it had simply been stress. The Hulk preferred to be left to his own devices and actually came to you out of his own volition if he wanted or needed something. So Tony had left him alone, and surprise surprise, the cat had quickly grown much more affectionate than before. Now, he even let Tony scratch his belly from time to time.

As soon as Tony had carefully sat down on the sofa next to the Hulk, Thor plastered himself all over Tony, giving him access to all of his favourite places for scratching. His purr was loud and obnoxious (and Tony loved it). Thor was, in a sense, more of a dog than a cat. Sinking his fingers into Thor’s fluffy fur and scratching gently, he smiled.

“I managed to get a not-date with Steve today,” he told his cats. “Thanks to that savage in the cat carrier over there, actually. I’m gonna introduce him to you guys, so you’ve got to promise me you’ll be on your best behaviour. You’ll be getting something very,  _very_ nice for dinner in exchange. Deal?”

Instead of an answer, Kamala, the cute brown kitten that had only been with a very recent addition, landed on his shoulder out of seemingly nowhere. Tony laughed and gave her a bump with his nose.

“I guess _you_ are exempt from that rule, little rascal,” he told her.

She meowed at him proudly.


End file.
